


And he’ll always have a part of me.

by katsukis



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Vandays, Vandays!FOB
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 10:00:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2577437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukis/pseuds/katsukis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fuck the world, and fuck the genes in his body for making him practically the shortest person in the entire fucking band and fuck this.</p><p>In which 75 percent of FOB are going to a show and Patrick sulks about being too young.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And he’ll always have a part of me.

**Author's Note:**

> **inspired by** – patrick wants to go to a concert in some shady place and so does everyone else, but he's too young, so everyone leaves patrick alone in the van to go the concert, and a few hours later, andy just crawls back into the van with a sweatshirt from the show and is like "i bought you this, i hope it fits" and he just puts it on and just blushes really hard because nobody really buys him gifts
> 
> one of my favorites out of the list of ideas
> 
> title taken from "A Part of Me" by Neck Deep (modified for this fic) 
> 
> apologies for mistakes!!

Patrick really hates Joe.

He really, _really_ hates Joe.

He only hates the young guitarist _because_ he's young – but he can get into the eighteen or older concerts because he looks like a fucking 21 year old.

Patrick, in comparison to Joe, should just be considered a child, buying dinner off of the kids menu and holding somebody's hand to cross the street – Patrick's furious, because of course, the one show he wants to see – _with all his heart_ \- is only allowing kids 18 or older.

Joe is 5 months younger than Patrick.

Fuck the world, and fuck the genes in his body for making him practically the shortest person in the entire fucking band and fuck this.

He's sighing, pressing himself into the furthest corner possible on the bench seat – glaring at the trio leaving the van – they're walking to the venue, which is a block away, and Patrick is upset because he was hoping to at least feel like he was there; the pounding of speakers with the volume at max, the shouting and whooping of the tipsy or flat-out drunk, 21 and older crowd and possibly hear the raspy voice of their lead singer.

The angry thoughts of 5-months-younger-than-him-Trohman are being pushed away, and he's humming to himself, kicking the stained carpeting of the van.

Patrick's hoping the time will pass faster if he doesn't pay attention to it, but it seems to be going slower, if possible, as a group of girls come giggling down the sidewalk, passing the vehicle that he's sulking in – he can see them in the flickering light of the lamp posts, possibly drunk and wearing a shirt bearing the name of the band he wanted to see – and the envious thoughts from earlier come back in full circle, coming to kick him like he did them.

He doesn't know how long the show might go on for, since it's pushing midnight right now, and they left about an hour ago – but he does know that he's slipping, possibly going to doze off and wake up with the van stolen by some dangerous thugs and trying to bargain with them that " _they can take Joe's guitar, but not his._ "

-

The singer is sadly woken by the shutting of a car door and not angry thugs trying to kidnap him, and it's a little surprising to see Andy there, something folded neatly and tucked under his arm as Patrick tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes and comprehend the moment before him.

“Why aren't you there right now?” He breaks the silence after seeing Andy pushing his glasses back up onto his face, “I mean, it's probably 10 times better in there than here.”

The drummer is quiet for a moment. 

“Pete's pretty wasted.” He says in a low voice, shifting in his seat, “Joe fucked off with some girl and her friend.”

Andy's silent again, licking his lips out of instinct for awkward situations, before thrusting the object that was folded and pushed underneath his arm.

“I got you this.” He shuffles around as Patrick unfolds and shakes the object, looking down at the ruffled article of clothing – a black crewneck with the tour dates scribbled on the back and the front bearing the blocky lettering of the band he's been waiting to see. “I, uh – hope it fits.”

The shirt's been tucked underneath his armpit, and it probably smells distinctly as sweat and maybe a trace of alcohol but Patrick just smiles and he can feel his cheeks heating up as he pulls it on, over his flimsy tee-shirt, and it fits like a charm, a little bit bigger than his body but it's comfortable.

The drummer doesn't say anything as Patrick just sits there, his cheeks flushed, trying to find the right words to respond to this gift – nobody really buys him presents.

“It's like 2:30, I think we should get some sleep. Pete's probably found someone to hook up with and Joe is god knows where.” Andy is chuckling to himself, “Hopefully they're not too hungover to find the van.”

He shrugs before Andy bids him a good night and presses up against the other door, and Patrick just fucking giggles to himself – he's like a teenage girl.

-

Andy wakes up to see Patrick fast asleep, still wearing the crewneck from last night, and Joe and Pete have seemed to make it back to the van, since Pete is passed out, snoring in the passenger seat and Joe is mumbling things to himself.

He was going to mention to Patrick that the band wasn't even that good live – actually he'd considered it terrible in his book, but he'd save that comment for later – he only went there to get him something memorable.


End file.
